They gaped at him.
“They’re totally cool with it,” I said, grabbing his hand. “Honest. And, oh no! Shucks! Since we have guests now, we have to cancel math night! Darn! Of all the rotten luck! Morgan, come on. Hurry, hurry, hurry.” I tugged him until he began to follow me toward my room.
Behind us, I heard Pete say to my parents, “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
But I didn’t care about that. It was probably boring grown-up stuff anyway. What I did care about was having my friend Morgan in my room. I’d never had a friend over before, and I was unsure what to show him first. Did he want to see the drawings I’d done that Mom said I wasn’t allowed to take out in public because “People just won’t understand your artistry, Sam. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go be sick for reasons unrelated to what you’ve just shown me. And, as a bit of constructive criticism, you may not want to use mayonnaise for paint, as it tends to rot.” Or I could show him my book collection (I had three) or my rock collection (I had three hundred forty-nine) or the—
I looked back over my shoulder to make sure he had followed me through the doorway after I’d dropped his hand. He was still there, not yet having entered my room. He looked sad for some reason. I glanced around, trying to see if something might have upset him, but my room looked like it always did. It was small, with a little bed in the corner with soft blankets Mom had made for me. A bureau in another corner held my rock collection and the few clothes I had that Mom and Dad fretted over, saying I was growing up too fast. I didn’t see a problem with it. As long as I had something to cover up my privates, I figured I was doing okay. The floor was made of dirt, but the walls were solid, and the roof barely even leaked. I even had a little window above my bed, and at night, if I craned my head just right, I could see the stars above the stone buildings that stood around us.
All in all, it was a pretty good room. A lot of kids in the slums didn’t have their own room like I did. I was thankful for it.
And now I had a friend here, and even though he still looked sad, it was something new, something exciting.
“I have books,” I told him proudly. “And I can read them all myself. Mom said if I’m lucky, I might be able to get another one for All Hallowed Day. And I also have rocks. And a wooden raccoon that my dad ma
de me. Isn’t that great?”
Morgan studied me closely. “Do you really think so?”
I scrunched up my face, unsure of what he meant. “Yes? Yes. I think so. I’ve got it pretty good, you know? Some people don’t get to have all that I do. I’m very lucky.”
He took a step into the room, and he needed to crouch slightly so his head didn’t hit the ceiling. I thought it was funny because Dad had to do the same thing. It was like they were giants. He trailed his fingers along the walls and scuffed his pointy pink shoes through the dirt. It only took him three or four steps to reach my bed. He stared down at it just for a moment, shoulders slumped. But before I could ask if something was wrong, he turned and sat down on the bed, the end of his beard in his lap.
“Sam,” he said. “There’s a reason for my visit.”
“You’re not gonna make me go to the dungeons and poop in buckets, are you?” I asked him suspiciously. “Because you already said you wouldn’t, and it’s the law that you can’t change your mind.”
“I’m not going to make you go to the dungeons and poop in buckets,” he said. “You have my word.”
“Whoa,” I whispered. “I have the word of a wizard. I am amazing.”
“That you are,” he agreed. “Which is part of the reason why I’m here.”
I squinted up at him. “You’re here because I’m amazing?”
“Yes.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s always good to have validation. Thank you.”
He coughed, like he was trying stay serious but needed to cover up a laugh. Pete did that to me all the time. “Sam, what do you know about magic?”
“I haven’t done any more,” I said quickly. “You made me promise not to try, and I always keep my promises.” I frowned. “Most of the time. And if I can’t keep my promise, I usually have a really good reason for it. Sometimes.”
He shook his head. “I know you haven’t. I’d be able to— It doesn’t matter, little one. I’m just curious about what you know.”
That made me feel better. “Oh! Well. Honestly? Not a whole lot. Like… there are magic words. And stuff. And you told me there are colors. Sometimes I see them, but I don’t touch them because you told me not to.” Then an idea hit me. “Can I turn things to turkey legs? Because I swear to the gods, if I can turn things to turkey legs, I would do that all the time. I’m sorry, but I would. I would do it all the time, and then I would eat every single one.”
He coughed again. It sounded a little forced. “That’s… maybe a lesson for another day.”
“So I can change things to turkey legs,” I whispered to myself. “Best. Day. Ever.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t not.”
“Do you know where magic comes from?”
That sufficiently distracted me from thoughts of turkey legs. “No,” I said slowly since I’d never really given it much thought. If I was being honest, as soon as I’d gotten my own pair of pink shoes, I hadn’t even thought about magic again.